Of Grimoires and Gria
by SurferSquid
Summary: An episodic exercise in self-indulgent escapism. Oh, and airships.
1. Things Just Got Awesome

Old bookstores are the best place to buy old books, I figured. I didn't know if I knew enough to consider myself a veteran used-book hound, but I'd seen enough fantasy movies to be well-versed in the fact that it was in the hole-in-the-wall places where the best stuff lurked. The stuff that had the most chance to be magic.

Call me a dreamer, call me crazy, but I still believed in that magic somewhere deep inside. Yeah, I could put it away for a long time, bury it under school and work and other grown-up obligations, but there was no denying the tantalizing thrill that I got from finding some musty tome tucked away somewhere, gently turning the pages and searching eagerly for the copyright date like I was an archaeologist doing carbon-dating. It was kind of sad that most of the "ancient artifacts" I found only came from as far back as about the nineteen-twenties, but that didn't matter so much to me as the thrill of the hunt, and I secretly dreamed of the day when I would be gently puttering through some pile of books in a dimly-lit shop that smelled like wood and paper and patron cats, and find something out of a fantasy, something that would transport me to another world, literally, as I perused its pages.

Although that didn't mean I wasn't completely flummoxed when it _actually happened_.

I wish I could say it was summer or winter, because then I would have been between semesters and a whole lot of stress would have been abated, but no. It was mid-May, the time of year when it starts to get really hot in Los Angeles, not just April's kind of teasing, going-back-and-forth-between-sunny-days-and-rainy-ones hot, but the real, brutal stuff that makes you just want to stay inside in air-conditioned comfort until the sun goes down. And of course, finals loom on the horizon.

I can't really remember how I stumbled upon the bookstore—was probably driving somewhere, slowed down by traffic, and happened to take long enough passing it that I realized it was a bookstore and it specifically advertised old books. I knew those came with a hefty price and my college-student pockets were painfully shallow, but I figured just going in there and looking around would be a fun diversion, and hopefully I wouldn't get kicked out for loitering. Maybe the proprietor was old and slept a lot.

The place turned out to be very promising when I returned a few weeks later, needing something to clear and de-stress my mind after an exam (as you can probably tell by now, my social life is utterly negligible). From the moment I creaked the wooden door open and heard the tired jingle of a real, non-electronic bell announcing my presence, I knew I'd struck paydirt. The owner (who was, as I had prognosticated, an older woman, albeit with a very awake look in her green eyes) was overeager to welcome me, which was awkward as I didn't have the heart to tell her that I probably couldn't afford anything in here that I wanted, and I was in fact _not_ a young-but-successful lawyer living in Bel Air with a superficial interest in literature. (Although, I think my well-used cargo pants, video-game-emblazoned t-shirt, and Goodwill-fresh plaid flannel overshirt kinda gave that away at first glance.)

I was relieved to find no trashy dime romance novels or pop fiction bestsellers cluttering the shelves, but a pleasant array of austere parliaments of encyclopedias (still managing to look authoritative even with several of their members missing) and thick, drably-bound volumes that looked as though they'd never seen the light of the twenty-first century. Needless to say, I was ecstatic.

I didn't even know quite what I was looking for, I was just enjoying sharing space with so much human brainpower crammed into one tiny shop. My rubber clogs padded against the unassuming concrete floor as I wandered the thin aisles, taking note of anything that looked to be unusually old or otherwise remarkable, and I was delighted to discover that the copyright dates went further back than anything else I'd encountered so far—and the books were in beautiful condition, to boot.

I had just about reached the back of the store (and the unfortunate end of my foray) and was going to turn and commend the owner for such a lovely establishment (and somehow slip in an apology for not buying anything), when a sliver of light caught my eye. Looking down, I saw something gold-leafed and pointy sticking out from the bottom of a pile of books. Interested, I crouched and began carefully re-stacking the pile from the top down to uncover its bottommost occupant. What I saw made my eyes go wider than I think they ever have.

It was a large, thick, and most singular book. Leather-bound like nothing's been since maybe the seventeen-hundreds, its front and back covers were decorated with intricately beautiful golden crests that looked like spoked wheels, the spokes sticking out beyond the dimensions of the binding (no wonder it hadn't been shelved properly). A thick strap of leather fastened the back cover to the front on the outside, slotting into a lock. There was no key to be found anywhere. What fascinated me the most, however, was the writing on the front cover's crest, as it looked like no writing system I had ever seen. The closest I could compare it to, maybe, was proto-Hebraic (it was kind of sad how I knew what proto-Hebraic looked like, but what I lack in social prowess I more than make up for in amounts of knowledge that probably qualify as obscene in an undergrad student).

The next thing I knew, I was lugging the thing over to the counter and placing it down with a grunt. (It was somehow a just-right sort of heavy, weighty enough so that one felt important while carrying it but not so much as to be a liability when strolling with it for long distances.) "What _is_ this?" I asked the proprietor, hoping that wasn't too weird a question.

She looked up and over her glasses at me from something she was writing on an old notepad, and then spied the book on the counter. "That? No idea, hon. Some old Arab sold it to me years ago. If he had a key, he didn't give it to me." She sighed and stood up slowly from the plastic folding chair she had been sitting in, bending over the counter to trace the gold plating. "Who knows what's in it, but I'm not about to ruin the binding cutting it open. Obviously why no one's bought it. That, and as you can see, it doesn't exactly fit easily on a shelf." She chuckled.

"How much is it?" I suddenly blurted out before I could stop myself, wincing afterward and waiting for a three- or even four-figure price.

"Fifty bucks."

I did a double take. "Seriously?"

"Look, by now, I kind of just want to get it off my hands." She smirked, her face creasing with wrinkles. "Besides, you're the first person who's come in here in a long time. I'm feeling generous."

I obviously didn't carry that kind of loose change. "…Do you take debit?" I asked, hoping beyond all hope as I dug into my pocket for my wallet.

One hurting bank account later, I was carrying a package securely wrapped in old newspaper out to my car, grinning with possibly an illegal level of glee and feeling like I'd been reunited with an old friend. I still had no idea what I was going to do with the thing, but it felt right in my arms like it was the subject of some cheesy love song and I was a tux-wearing crooner.

Not having the heart to deposit it in the trunk like it was a bag of groceries, I gingerly laid it in the passenger's seat and it was my acting co-pilot the entire way home. When we reached our destination, I sat down with it on my bed and slowly unwrapped it like it was a prized Christmas present, scarcely believing that such an old and beautiful thing was mine. I felt like the most awesome person in the world.

As I held the tome in my hands, wondering if there was some way to pick the lock open, or if the shop owner hadn't already tried or had refrained to prevent breaking the lock mechanism, suddenly I heard a soft "click" and the binding strap slid out of its holder, flopping down to rest on my leg.

My breath caught in my throat. _Magic_, my mind echoed from the wishes of a childhood past. _It's real magic this time._

_Brain, as much as I'd love for that to be the case there could still be a logical explanation, _I reminded myself rather coldly (perhaps I hadn't gotten adequate sleep the night before, that always makes me a little grumpy). _The lock's old and maybe it just got jiggled loose by the car ride home._ Nevertheless, that didn't stop me from taking the next logical step and opening the heavy front cover.

What awaited me was not a normal frontispiece or title page, or even something considered normal by the laws of physics, but a blinding white field of light whose radiance poured into the room, causing me to give a small cry of surprise and throw up my arm to shield my eyes. At the same time, I suddenly felt myself falling into whiteness and my cry turned into a genuine scream.


	2. You Gotta Have Friends

The next thing I knew, I was cold, and wet, and sore, like I'd been camping without a sleeping bag and the tent had a leak and it rained during the night. Actually, that wasn't far from the truth. I opened my eyes with a groan to see the sun streaming through leafy treetops high above my head and heard the babbling of water nearby. Blinking, I rolled over to find I'd been lying prone on a mattock of dewy-damp grass, the kind that's just soft enough to look inviting and feel nice at first, but after five minutes of sitting on it one starts to be able to discern all of the little rocks and knots and roots under that painfully deceptive surface. Okay, so I'm a city kid.

"Ugh…" I groaned, staggering to my feet. "What even…" Looking around, it was apparent that I was in a genuine forest, like nothing Los Angeles ever had. It looked like something more out of the tales of Robin Hood, some thick, ancient woodland that had probably never seen human exploitation. What puzzled me the most was that none of the trees looked familiar. There were no oaks or pines or birches, but things with twisty gnarled trunks and blue-green leaves and hanging vines gently swaying in the morning breeze.

I also noticed the book lying innocuously a few feet away, miraculously having landed in a dry area, and wearily I went over and collected it, giving a bit of an exasperated look since it was obviously the cause of all of my troubles. It was funny, when I'd thought about this kind of thing happening I always imagined I'd approach it with excitement, but now I was just feeling…lost, and worried. Not the least because I had school the next day. If I didn't find a way to get back home within the next thirteen hours or so, my grades were irreparably ruined.

Unable to take this, I fell to my knees clutching the book to my chest. "Oh, _no!_" I wailed in despair. I knew I should have been thankful that I was finally getting the opportunity of a lifetime, but honestly, couldn't it have waited until between semesters?!

I was spiraling into depression when I heard the crunch of heavy footfalls on dead leaves, and the hairs on the back of my neck pricked. Catching my breath, I stood up and spun around quickly to find myself face-to-face with—well, I honestly had no idea. It was obviously sentient because it was wearing clothes, leather armor and loose, long shorts. But it was also reptilian, with a long, crocodilian snout, clawed hands, and feet like a theropod's. Its long tail swung loosely behind it, and comically enough two pairs of floppy ears hung below its jaw like a basset hound's. If it had been standing completely upright like a human it might have been taller than me, but its shoulders were hunched so its snout was only about level with my own shoulders. It also wore an unkind, toothy grin and a fierce glint in its eye. I smelled trouble—no, trouble was a reeking and unavoidable odor that could wilt flowers and make grown men pass out.

"Well, what 'ave we here?" it asked in a suitably gravelly tone, taking another step toward me. "Trespassin' on Redclaw territory, are we?"

The color drained from my face as I took a step backwards, noticing the scimitar strapped to his belt (I was reasonably certain by now that the thing was male). "Ah…sorry…" That was just about all I could get out as an apology/excuse/argument as I turned to leave, hoping that the direction I was heading would take me out of the territory of these Redclaw folks as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, I felt a rough hand grab my arm, the scales feeling like alligator hide against my bare skin. "Yer not goin' anywhere."

"Uh, ah, yes, I think I am," I stammered, twisting my arm in the direction of his thumb, knowing that if his hands worked anything like human hands, the opposeable digit wouldn't have the necessary strength to keep a grip. Thankfully, it worked and I twisted around and out of his grasp, stepping into a wide stance and holding the book in front of me, ready to use it as a bludgeoning weapon if I had to.

That was when he pulled out his scimitar. "Hey, whoa, uh, can't we talk about this?!" I squeaked, trotting backwards and hoping I wouldn't trip over a loose root. I was already unsure of my amateur martial arts abilities as it was, but having my hands full with a heavy book and trying to fend off a lizard-guy with a sword was not the kind of fight I'd been taught to expect.

"Talk to my blade," he snarled, raising it above his head for a vertical strike.

Suddenly, a thwipping sound cut through the air and before my eyes, the lizard-man's scimitar shattered, the hilt flying from his grip. "Gah!" He hissed and clutched his hand. As he did so, another "thwip!" sounded and an arrow embedded itself in his shoulder. Before he could even cry out, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in a manner that arrows to the shoulder shouldn't really incite. I couldn't tell whether or not he was still breathing.

Realizing things had just gotten a bit more complicated, I took the opportunity to keep backing up; as I did so I noticed the first arrow lying on the grass amongst the shards of metal and swallowed hard. Either of those projectiles could easily have hit my head. "Okay, I'm ready to go home now," I whimpered to the book, holding it over my mouth like I could hide behind it and peek up from over it and be safe from the probably five thousand ways to die in this world.

Two humanoid shapes dropped from the trees in front of me, one crouching to absorb the impact of its fall and the other gliding down on dragonlike wings. As the first figure stood up, it became apparent that she (for it was clearly female) was taller than me by at least six inches (and I'm five-foot-seven, so she was pretty tall), not counting the long, brown-and-white rabbit ears she was sporting that stuck straight up from the sides of her head. She was willowy and long-limbed, with dusky brown skin, dark eyes, and wispy white hair that curled gracefully around her face and fell behind her like an ethereal mane. Her small feet were bare and tipped in black claws, as were her long-fingered hands. She wore a drab green outfit that looked like something vaguely military, and carried an enormous black greatbow in one hand with an accompanying quiver at her hip that I figured was the source of the arrows.

The dragon-being turned out to be more girl than dragon; unlike the rabbit-woman she was shorter than me, maybe around five feet tall. She also had the proportions and facial appearance of a petite teenager, albeit one with olive-green, scaly wings; two long, thin horns coming out the top of her head; and a short, whiplike tail. Oh, and rose-pink hair. She wore red-and-silver armor and had what looked to be a comically large broadsword strapped to her back.

"Are you all right?" the rabbit-woman asked, tilting her head slightly as she looked down at me. Her voice was husky and smooth and sounded like the smell of dark chocolate, if dark-chocolate-smell could have a sound. Maybe this dimension-crossing trip had awakened some latent synesthesia, I thought.

"Uhm…yeah, yeah, I'm okay," I panted, surprised that these newcomers weren't attacking me. Then again, they looked a lot nicer than Lizard-Guy, but I definitely didn't want to get on Rabbit-Woman's bad side, I decided. "Thanks…for saving me."

"Yeah, no problem!" Dragon-Girl grinned, twisting on her ankle coquettishly as she folded her hands behind her back. "Ugh, what a meanie," she scowled, looking down at the prone crocodile. "Redclaw's always pulling this kinda stuff, y'know. Zedlei Forest doesn't belong to them any more than it belongs to the rest of us! And it's not like they even participate in the clan auctions…"

"Haven't the brainpower, I'm sure," Rabbit-Woman muttered, a shadow of a smirk passing over her face.

I pointed an unsure finger at his body. "Is he, uh…"

"Dead?" the draconic teen chirped, giggling. "No, no. He's just knocked out. They do have a Judge, y'know. They're a legitimate clan, as hard as it is to believe."

"Um…okay," I nodded, trying to follow along although I had no idea what she was talking about, all of this referring to clans and judges.

Rabbit-Woman tilted her head at me again, looking me up and down with narrowed eyes as though she was inspecting me. "You are foreign to Ivalice, are you not?"

Figuring Ivalice had to be where I currently was, I nodded again. "Yeah…yeah, I am."

Her eyes fell on my book. "And that is a Grimoire, if I am not mistaken."

"…Is it?" I held it out for her to inspect further. "I, I don't really know, I mean, I bought it at a used bookstore earlier today and um…" I sighed and looked up at her apologetically. "I'm gonna be frank, I'm not from your world. I bought this book in my own world and it opened on its own and I fell in and I know I sound crazy." I winced, waiting to be hauled off to Ivalice's equivalent of the loony bin.

Instead, she just smiled knowingly at me. "Well, that certainly explains much."

I peeked up at her from behind the book again. "…It does?"

"People fall into Ivalice with Grimoires all the time!" Dragon-Girl piped up, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Well, okay, it's only happened maybe once or twice. But we all know the stories! Grimoires are powerful things, y'know! I heard that when Ivalice got created, Grimoires were scattered all over the universes by the gods, waiting for people to find them!" She clasped her hands together, starry-eyed. "Ooh, what an adventure! Saskia, do you think maybe if I find a Grimoire here in Ivalice, I'll get transported to another universe, myself?"

Her companion smirked and bowed her head. "Perhaps."

"Agh!" I panicked a bit when Dragon-Girl suddenly poked her head in close to me; the tips of her horns were a little too near for comfort and I instinctively pressed the book to my chest.

"Can I see yours? Ooh, it's so pretty! Just one little peek, please!"

"Uh…won't, uh, your friend there be upset if you kinda…disappear on the spot like I did?"

Saskia nodded again. "Go ahead, open it, Coele."

By now I had pretty much figured Saskia knew way more than I did, and it was probable that the Grimoires were only one-way, so I handed the hefty tome to Coele, feeling fairly confident that nothing would happen to her. She handled the heavy volume deftly (which, seeing the huge blade on her back, didn't really surprise me), and, holding it with one hand, lifted open the front cover. As I suspected, she stayed put. "It's blank!" she complained, flipping through the pages.

Now _that_ surprised me. I moved to look over her shoulder—the pages were, indeed, completely bereft of information. It was like no one ever touched the book. "…Is that normal?" I asked Saskia.

"Yes." The rabbit-woman strode over to us, her digitigrade walking giving her a unique, swaying gait. "If I have heard correctly, Grimoires are blank when their owners first enter Ivalice, but as they journey and gain new experiences, the pages fill as a journal of their endeavours."

As if on cue, the book suddenly started to glow. Curious, I looked at it again and saw silvery light tracing an image on the first page, a picture of a young woman clearly resembling myself, with glasses and her long hair in a braid, holding a large book and looking around an ancient woodland. The amazing thing was, it was drawn in my sketching style, as though I were the one who had drafted it onto the paper. Noticing that the other side of the page was glowing as well, I turned it and saw that portraits were being drawn of the three beings I had met, in field-journal style. "Wow…awesome," I whispered with a grin.

"Interesting…it appears that your Grimoire records things in the form of illustration rather than text. That's quite unique, I believe," Saskia noted. "But it is indeed working as the tales have related."

"…So this is a pretty standard thing?" I feigned wiping sweat off my brow. "That's a relief. Hmm…so I'm guessing that means that when the Grimoire is filled up, I'll get to go back home or something. Right?"

"Correct."

I grinned and stuffed my hands in my pockets. "Awesome. That's straightforward enough. Er, one more thing, does time like, flow differently between universes? Like, am I going to have the convenience of being sent back to the exact same time I left, or really shortly afterward, no matter how long I might spend here?"

Saskia paused for a moment. "I am afraid I am not really sure. No one I know of has ever returned from their own world after leaving Ivalice."

"Oh." My shoulders drooped a bit. There were all sorts of problems with me leaving my own world unannounced. I didn't want to think of the look on my mother's face. And, of course, there was my precious GPA to consider. "Well…guess I can't do anything about that, now," I decided resignedly. "Does anyone ever get to come back here once they leave?"

"If so, I have never heard of such a thing." Saskia smiled a little bittersweetly. "But, do not let that trouble you. Merely enjoy what time you have to spend here. Such is the nature of life itself."

"Mm." I placed my chin in my hand contemplatively.

"Hey, that's depressing!" Coele complained, dropping the Grimoire back into my hands and causing me to stagger forward with the sudden weight. "Let's go have fun, okay?"

I chuckled at her as I regained my balance. "Okay. Fun it is, then." As much as I bore a proclivity towards brooding and philosophizing, she had a point. I was stuck here and there wasn't much I could do but have the adventure I'd always wanted. Being picky about it seemed kind of silly now. "My name's Terra Fullmer. It's nice to meet both of you."

"Saskia." The rabbit-woman bowed. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well."

Dragon-Girl jumped up, her wings fluttering. "And I'm Coele!" Coming back down, she landed on Lizard-Guy, who let out a pained groan as her feet impacted his ribs. "Uh…we should probably get going," she laughed nervously.


	3. No More Being a Couch Potato

"So, I believe our first order of business is to establish your job," Saskia mentioned to me as we departed from the scene of the scuffle. "I noticed you using some martial arts break-holds and stances against that Bangaa…are you a White Monk, by any chance? I was under the impression that only Bangaa held that job, but I suppose it might not be impossible for Humes to be taught the art…"

"Wait, so," I interrupted. "That thing back there was a Bangaa? And Humes are humans, am I right?"

"Yes, that was a Bangaa." Saskia seemed to only then realize that I wasn't familiar with the races of her world. "I am a Viera, and Coele is a Gria. There are other races here, such as the Nu Mou, the Moogles, and the Revgaji, but I will point those out to you when we see them. I do not know the meaning of the word 'human', but a Hume is what _you _are."

"Okay," I nodded. "And I'm not a 'White Monk', I'm, uh, a college student. And a freelance illustrator."

"She means your combat job," Coele pointed out. "I'm registered as a Ravager, and Saskia is a Sniper."

"Oh…um…I don't think I have a combat job," I replied meekly. "Do I need one?"

"It would probably be best to be able to defend yourself here," Saskia pointed out, gently but firmly. "One never knows what fell powers one might meet…and if you take a job, you would be a great asset to us. I think we could finally register ourselves as a proper clan."

"Okay…so what are clans?"

"Mmmm, it's kind of hard to describe," Coele twisted her face and wrinkled her nose, thinking hard as she placed her finger on her chin. "They're kind of mercenary groups, I guess. Some of them specialize in different things, like monster hunting or commerce or other stuff, but mostly they just kinda patrol Ivalice and take up requests posted at local pubs."

"And get paid quite handsomely for it," Saskia mentioned.

"And you guys need three people to form a clan?" I asked.

"Well, two people is a pretty small clan," Coele pointed out. I noticed that she tended to skip when she walked, held airborne for slightly longer than usual by a flap of her wings. "We didn't really bother applying for clanhood before because we knew we'd get rejected. But with three people, we'd have more of a chance. I know there are at least a couple of clans out there, like House Bowen, that only have four members."

"They used to have three before Veis the Shadow joined," Saskia pointed out.

"Oh yeah! Well then, it looks like we've got a clan on our hands! Yahoo!" Coele laughed and jumped up, throwing her arms behind her head in victory. "This is great!"

"Exciteable, isn't she," I chuckled to Saskia.

"Quite." The Viera smiled. She led our clan-in-embryo to wide dirt road that cut through the wood, shadowed by the thick boughs of aged trees. "This is the road to Moorabella, the city of scholars. We shall apply for clanhood there, register you for a job, and make other preparations." Her gaze grew distant. "It has been a long time since I participated in clan activities."

"So, your job," Coele reminded me. I groaned inwardly. "Do you want to specialize in physical or magical combat?"

"I don't know if I want to hurt people," I admitted quietly. "Is there some kind of healing job?"

"You seek the path of the White Mage, the healer and protector," Saskia said mystically as she steepled her long fingers. I was starting to like her more and more.

"Oh, we could definitely use a White Mage!" Coele agreed enthusiastically. "I get pretty beat up in battle sometimes! Would be nice to get a good Curaga in me!"

"A what?" I questioned.

"Healing spell," Saskia explained.

"Oooohh, okay. Cool. Yeah…I think I'd like that," I grinned. "Especially if you guys need one. I want to help out."

"Help is always welcome," the Viera nodded.

It was nightfall by the time we reached Moorabella—the road seemed to stretch on forever and was always uphill, but by sunset I could see gleaming towers and at dusk we finally passed through the city gates and I looked around in awe at the tall buildings with their quaint architecture; flowers I'd never seen before bloomed in windowsill gardens and children from strange species ran through the streets as people hurried home with their shopping.

"Do you guys usually walk everywhere?" I asked, my euphemistic way of complaining that my feet hurt like crazy and I wanted nothing more than to lay down for about twelve hours.

Coele shrugged. "You get used to it. Some clans have their own airships, but…as you can see, we kinda don't."

"Oh, oka—" I did a double take. "Airships?"

Suddenly, as though this were a cleverly-scripted movie, I heard an unearthly rumbling, sparkling whine far above our heads, like a jet engine mixed with…pixie dust, somehow? I looked up and breath escaped me as an enormous gleaming ship, wheels of energy spinning beneath it, swerved through the sky on its slow descent toward the city.

Noticing the look on my face, Coele giggled, and even Saskia cracked a smile. "…I think I could get used to Ivalice," I decided, still partly in a trance as I began walking again, my gaze still fixed skyward. Airships were a thing; my feet didn't seem quite so sore now and all thoughts of math class fled my mind.

I must admit I tagged along like a confused child while Saskia and Coele went through the process of getting us formalized as a clan. While there was some paperwork I had to fill out (I discovered, to my great convenience, that I had not only acquired an understanding of the Ivalician language upon falling into the world, but could now instinctively write in its script), I spent most of my time just looking around, at everything. All of the individuals were fascinating, whether they were some exotic species or just Humes like me, the architecture and furniture were filled with styles, motifs, and materials I had never known, and even the way people spoke was intriguing. I almost wished I _didn't_ understand Ivalician just so I could hear what the language actually sounded like—but of course that would be problematic for practical reasons.

Once that was taken care of, we were assigned a Judge, a mysterious, non-conversational entity in body-covering silver armor who would apparently teleport in and out of our company at its leisure, overseeing our activities to ensure that we operated within the bounds of Ivalician law. I wasn't surprised when he (or she, it was hard to tell) disappeared from before us in a flash of light after exchanging a few brief and grave words with Saskia, the appointed leader of our clan.

Then it was time for shopping; aside from stocking up on potions and other restoratives, my two clanmates set aside some gil for me to buy my own equipment, which touched me greatly. I tried to protest against their spending their hard-earned money on me, but Saskia explained that the robes and staffs would help me perform my function much easier, as many of them were crafted with magicks that would catalyze and enhance my abilities. Of course we didn't have the cash for the really high-end stuff, but pretty soon I was the proud new owner of a nice white-and-red cloak and a simple wooden staff. You can bet I was feeling like someone out of _Lord of the Rings_, but in a world where everything was equally fantastical it was hard to feel self-conscious. No one even gave me a second look when we walked the streets.

"I could get used to this," I muttered contentedly over dinner (I had no idea what sort of vegetables comprised that salad but it was delicious).

"Me too!" Coele said excitedly as she tore into her steak. "A real clan, can you believe it?"

"Shall we check the pub for postings?" Saskia suggested, daintily inserting a piece of root vegetable into her mouth.

"Ooh, good idea!" the Gria clapped. "Won't this be fun!" She patted my shoulder. "I think you'll fit right in here! I'll bet you'll be the best White Mage ever!"

I blushed, grinning sheepishly. "Thanks." Inwardly I was far more excited than I let on. Who knew what kind of adventures awaited?


	4. In Which Pirates and Bad Hygiene Happen

The answer to last chapter's question turned out to be: "pretty smelly ones". My first couple of weeks in Ivalice weren't so bad; aside from the bouts of homesickness, things were pretty uneventful as I learned the ropes of being a clan member, going out on missions, helping hunt dangerous beasts, send bandits packing, and escort civilians through rough territory. For someone who had never even been able to pull a coin from someone's ear back home, I was amazed to find myself able to perform healing spells, curing my clanmates' wounds and dispelling any other ill effects (as I quickly discovered that many of our enemies had the ability to temporarily poison or blind us, among other unpleasantries—which everyone just kind of shrugged off as though being turned to stone was like stubbing a toe).

In spite of all of this, I never really felt totally unsafe; it all felt more like a game than anything else, and one that we were quite good at. I found myself wishing things worked like this on Earth, especially because earning money was a lot easier here. I also spent much of my free time sketching in my Grimoire, which as it turned out allowed me to do so often, only filling in events itself when I failed to record them promptly.

But anyway. The smell.

We were down south in Graszton, having taken a request from the bustling port city's dock workers to stop a crew of pirates who kept ambushing shipments (that should explain the smell, right there, but it gets worse). Our plan was to catch these pirates in the act, which worked until I forgot the number one rule of engaging in melee when you're a magic user: _don't_. I was sandwiched between brigands and ne'er-do-wells, trying to shove my way past them so I could get a clear shot with a Cure at Coele who was sporting a nasty wound. A dark-skinned Hume in bad need of a shower flashed a dagger and I knocked it aside with my metal staff, but before I could follow through with another attack, a thick, muddy-blue arm wrapped itself around my waist and yanked me out of the fray, none too gently. I suddenly found myself squeezed uncomfortably against a snaggle-toothed Seeq, his long, floppy ears dangling past his porcine jowls as his horned helmet sat askew atop his head. In all honesty he looked more like a Viking than a pirate, but I supposed I shouldn't make assumptions about the historical accuracy of a fantasy world.

I recognized him as Qrrog, the captain of the mangy crew we were trying to bring to justice, and he was seriously invading my personal bubble. "Okay, look, could you just—" I muttered frantically, trying to find some way to squirm out of the outlaw's grasp, but he put an end to it by tickling my throat with the rusty edge of his battleaxe. You can bet I prayed that Ivalice had tetanus shots.

"Surrender!" he bellowed throatily to my clan mates, who were still holding their own against the throng. Saskia was being her usual hardcore self, bounding across docked boats and rooftops as she placed impeccably-well-aimed shots into her quarries, while Coele, although slowed down immensely by her injury, was still managing to passably keep everyone off of her, but they both froze when they saw that I was in trouble. Immediately a pirate grabbed one of Coele's horns, causing her to cry out in alarm, but she fell to her knees and made no move to escape as both hers and Saskia's eyes were on me.

"Surrender or I throw 'er to the sharks!" Qrrog continued, inching closer to the edge of the dock with me in tow.

"I _can_ swim, you know," I felt the need to point out dryly even with the guy's blade at my throat.

He looked over at me and chuckled, sending out putrid waves of the worst-smelling breath my poor nose has ever had to experience. "You wouldn't wanna set foot in these waters, lass."

I scrunched up my face and stuck out my tongue, my stomach flopping helplessly in the presence of such stench. "What did you eat for breakfast, rotten fish with sewage sauce?!" I gagged.

The pirate laughed, sending his malodorous breath washing over me again. I had been informed that Seeq were not exactly well-versed in etiquette but this was ridiculous. "So what if I did?" he taunted, looking rather satisfied to see me so put-out by his terrible hygiene. "What are you gonna do about it?"

I narrowed my eyes. I'd had just about enough of this guy. "_Holy to the face!_" I shouted, my palm filling with white magick as I reached up and shoved my hand to his snout. The resulting explosion of magick blinded both of us, but gave me the distraction I needed to slip free.

Now, okay, Holy isn't a registered White Mage spell. But I wasn't complacent in my job class and Saskia had suggested looking around at other jobs to see if they possessed any skills I thought would come in handy. Having been on the receiving end of a Bishop's Holy spell earlier that week, I thought it might be a useful one to add to my repertoire, which had only consisted of healing and defensive magicks up to that point.

For once, my foresight had been twenty-twenty. As I blinked the light out of my eyes and straightened my tunic, more than a little annoyed and knowing I would have to do some serious laundry at the next inn, I noticed two things: Qrrog was currently huddled in a fetal position at my feet, holding his face and moaning; and everyone was staring at us, completely silent. "Uh…" was about as good of a victory speech I could muster.

I glanced down at the Seeq, who was looking far less menacing than he had just a few seconds ago. He was acting like a hurt child, albeit one trying to get more attention for their injury than they really needed. Even so, I couldn't help but feel bad for him. I hadn't expected the spell to be so effective, especially on my first try, and he looked like he was in genuine pain. "…I'm sorry," I apologized, kneeling down beside him and extending my hand to soothe his wound with healing magick. "Here, let me help."

"You idiot, it's a trap!" Saskia shouted, her eyes wide as she kept her bow drawn, watching the pirates wildly and ready to shoot the first one to make a move. One of her lithe feet was perched precariously on the corner of a stack of crates while the other rested on a wooden pole holding up an awning.

I knew she was right, but my good conscience wouldn't allow me to leave someone suffering like that. To the surprise of both of us, however, Qrrog merely opened his eyes to look up at me. "No one's…ever healed me before," he breathed in disbelief. Without warning, he suddenly leapt up and threw his flabby arms around me. "You're _my hero!_" he cried shamelessly.

"Your _hero?!_ _I_ was the one who blasted you with magick in the_ first place!_" I protested, struggling to get free once again.

"Aye, but then you healed me! Never have I seen such courage or kindness in all me days on the high seas," Qrrog sniffled, reaching up with a meaty hand to wipe away tears.

"I, uh," I stammered, not quite sure what to make of this and wishing Seeq knew what deodorant was, as the bipolar pirate currently still had me crushed against him.

"I've gotta make it up to you, lass!" he declared, clutching my shoulders and pulling me away from him, lifting my feet from the ground at the same time. "I'm resignin' from me life o' crime! Seeq's honor!" he proclaimed as I merely grinned sheepishly at him.

"Seeq have no honor," Saskia muttered under her breath, pulling the arrow back.

"Shh! I think Terra's on to something!" Coele shushed our rooftop friend.

"And you know what else?" Qrrog continued gleefully. "I wanna join your clan!"

Saskia did a double-take and nearly fell off of her perch in surprise.

"…Seriously?" I asked, my grin now more of a grimace. The mere logistics of having another member tag along, and a rowdy Seeq no less, were already starting to make my mind swim. He probably ate more than the other three of us combined.

"Oh, please, _please!_" he begged, setting me down to fall on his knees and clasp his hands, looking at me with the best approximation of a sad-puppy-face that a blue pig-man could possibly muster. "I'll be good, I promise! I know how to pull me own weight!"

"Um…" I held my finger to my chin and looked over my shoulder at Saskia, giving her a "can we keep him" kind of expression. Honestly, I had my doubts, but I also didn't want him returning to piracy and having him join our clan seemed like a more merciful alternative than turning him in to the law.

Saskia looked at me exasperatedly, and shot Coele a dubious glance. The Gria shrugged. "Hey…could be fun," she admitted. "Anything to get me out of this horn-lock," she added, elbowing the Bangaa woman who had grabbed her horn; the female hissed and yanked Coele's head again.

"Fine," Saskia conceded. "He can join us." She lowered her head into her hand. "I do not doubt but that I shall regret this later…" she grumbled.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Qrrog hollered, jumping up and down before coming in for another hug. "I won't disappoint!"

This one I saw coming, but my attempts to hold him back were futile. "On one condition," I gasped, feeling weak in the knees. "All clan members are required to shower regularly."

And then there were four.


End file.
